Devil's Backbone
by Suz Singer
Summary: Meg's just trying to get by. She's the first in her family to go to college and is determined not to disappoint them. She takes a summer job at Doc McGinty's bar - and it isn't long before the MacManus brothers ingratiate themselves into her life. Falling in love might just put her life in danger as the Saints take on Boston. {Cross-listed on AOT3}
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Megan Kavanaugh heaved a relieved sigh. Her apartment was finally unpacked and satisfactorily decorated, to her standards, anyway. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand as her father flopped onto her couch. "What do you think, Da?" She asked, lifting the hem of her long shirt to wipe off the sweat off her brow.

Her father, Quinn Kavanaugh, looked around the place one more time. "I think your room in my house is much nicer," he rumbled, making his daughter roll her eyes at him. "But you took a piece of shit and made it into a gem," Quinn continued, gesturing for her to sit down next to him.

Megan sat down heavily, leaning into her father as he wrapped an arm around her. "That was truly eloquent, Dadaí." She teased.

Quinn kissed his daughter on the forehead. "Aye, that's because I'm not educated like you, mo ghrá. I was a farmer in Ireland, and a construction worker in Boston. You, mo ghrá, are the first of our family to ever enter college, and will be the first to graduate it. _That_ is why we moved here, remember, Meg? Your mother and I wanted you to be a scholar, not a laborer like us," Quinn explained to his daughter. "And look at you! Three years into Boston Uni with two majors! Top of your class, no less!" Megan couldn't help but grin at her father's words, lean more into his embrace.

Quinn Kavanaugh was mid-way through his forties, but looked at least a decade older. The death of Megan's mother ten years ago had devastated Quinn, and his grief had aged him. Even with that, Quinn was still a good-looking man. He was tall and fit from his lifelong years of manual labor, his hair was salt and pepper, and if he took the time to style it, he looked quite dashing. He had lots of ladies lining up to hit on him- but he had never paid them any mind.

Quinn was far too devoted to his work and his children to even think of a woman in his life like that. He used to joke that the only ladies that he needed in his life were his mother Siobhan, and Megan. Siobhan had come with them to America, to help Quinn take care of eleven-year-old Megan and sixteen-year-old Billy.

Siobhan still lived with Quinn, nearing 80, bickering with her son endlessly, very unhappy her granddaughter had moved out- and was completely convinced that it would come to no good. Megan was utterly convinced it was because her grandmother couldn't keep a constant eye on her anymore.

Megan's older brother Billy, however, bounced from couch to couch working odd jobs here and there, getting trashed every night. Presently, Billy had literally just moved back in with their father and grandmother. Quinn had managed to get Billy a job at his construction company, since Billy was currently trying to straighten his life out for the third time this year.

"It's getting late, Da. Maimeó is probably laying in wait for you." Megan suggested, making her father groan.

"Don't _remind_ me, Meg. I have to get your grandmother some good Irish whiskey for her coffee or she'll make me life miserable," Quinn complained.

"For her coffee," Meg scoffed. "If there is more than an ounce of coffee in that cup, I'll eat my own hat."

Quinn squinted at her. "You don't have a hat," he retorted.

"So it is a safe bet." Megan confirmed.

Her father started laughing, turning to kiss his daughter on the forehead. "Smart girl," he teased, getting to his feet with a groan. "I will go. The sooner your Maimeó gets her Irish coffee, the sooner she goes to sleep and stops nagging me." He remarked. Megan giggled at his words- standing to embrace her father. "And I think me girl here is ready to pass out on this very couch."

Megan smiled at Quinn, nodding and acknowledging his words. "I have work in the morning, and I start at McGinty's tomorrow night." She confirmed.

"Then you go to sleep, mo ghrá. Doc will be good to ya, he swore- well, as he swore." Quinn joked, chuckling at the look of disbelief on his daughter's face.

Quinn had frequented McGinty's for ten years, and was quite friendly with the owner - known quite widely as Doc. And as Megan was on summer break from school, she wanted to make a little more money while she had time. Doc had been more than willing to let her come in and help out for the summer at least.

"Oh, go on home, Da!" Megan told him, pushing him towards the door.

Quinn laughed and did as prompted, stopping as he came face to face with the door and its flimsy lock. "Imma replace that," he informed her. Megan laughed again and pushed her father out the door. "Lock the door!" She could hear her father shout through the door.

Obligingly, Meg locked the door and flopped onto her couch. She looked around, grinning at her new home. Megan moved through her apartment, checking her windows to make sure they were locked, and drawing the blinds. She then turned out the lights in the living room and went into her bedroom.

The walls were a soft white. Before they had started moving her things in, Megan and Quinn had scrubbed the filthy walls, and the landlord had even allowed them to paint. And it was a miracle what a coat of paint could do! As did the rugs covering the cracked laminate all over her apartment. Megan's careful decorating made the crappy apartment actually look like something. There were no windows in her bedroom, the walls instead covered with pictures of her friends and family.

Megan flicked on the lamp beside her bed and then turned to her dresser, rifling through to find a pair of pajamas, selecting a soft pink cotton set with green polka dots. She quickly changed into the set and then carried the discarded clothes to her hamper. At her dresser, she combed a brush through her short, dark hair hurriedly before scurrying back to her bed, diving under the covers and turning off her lamp.

As she tried to fall asleep, she could hear two voices through the thin wall. Two men, it seemed. She could hear their Irish accents, too, so thin were the walls. Her neighbors were scuffling around and arguing, but she wished they would just shut up. It wasn't really so late, Megan admitted, but she was tired and had so much to do the next day.

She turned over and grabbed her other pillow to press it against her ear. With that, Megan managed to fall asleep.

* * *

Megan Kavanaugh sat back on a stool behind her register, sighing audibly as her crabby customer – a well-to-do stay-at-home mother- finally walked away. She ran a hand through her chin-length black hair. Her co-worker and good friend Mary nodded at her from her own register, unable to do anything more as she helped a customer herself. "Hey, Meg! Time to punch out!" her boss, the owner of the small neighborhood grocery store.

"Joe, I've still got ten minutes," Megan protested.

Joe looked around the store exaggeratedly, waving his arms. "We're dead right now! I don't need a second checker!" he argued.

Megan hopped off her stool and walked around her register to approach her boss. "Joe, you know I just got a new place and I'm saving for college. Every dollar counts…and if I punch out early, I lose one." She said pleadingly.

"Joe, what are you doing?" Another voice called. The voice belonged to a plump older woman with gray-streaked black hair- Joe's wife, Amelia.

"I've just told Meg she can knock off early. That's all!" the old man justified.

Amelia waddled over, taking her husband's arm. "And she doesn't want to. So Megan will stay until she is scheduled to leave," she informed her husband. Joe wisely said nothing – instead cutting his eyes to Megan who averted her own. "Go back to work, Meg." Amelia ordered the young woman.

Megan nodded gratefully and scurried back to her register. Mary made a silly face at her – not daring to speak this time with the bosses in hearing distance. Joe stomped towards the back of the store while Amelia winked at her employee before returning to her office.

And Megan waited idly at her register for precisely eight and a half minutes – until two customers – both laden with armfuls of groceries – came to her register. The two men dropped their load onto the counter haphazardly, flashing Megan matching, charming grins.

While clearly brothers, the two men were hardly identical. One was as dark as the other light. "'lo there, lassie, you mind helping us out?" the darker man requested. Megan smiled weakly in response, quickly leaping into action by beginning to scan up their groceries.

"That'll be 23.36, please," Megan requested as she tucked the last grocery into a bag, turning back to the clearly Irish brothers – by the thick brogue of their accents and the fact that they had slipped into Gaelic a few moments ago. She hadn't hinted that she understood what they were saying – much less that she knew they were talking about her.

"Of course, love," the blonde brother responded genially enough, pulling a cracked, black leather wallet from his pocket. He handed her the right amount of money in wrinkled old bills and exact change. Megan swiftly counted through it as though she hadn't just watched him count it out and tucked it into the money drawer, then handing them a receipt.

"Have a nice day," Megan said, willing them to leave so she could.

But the brothers didn't leave as quickly as she'd hoped, instead gathering their bags slowly, and trading a few quiet words. "So, lassie, we might have been wondering what plans you might have later… after all, a pretty girl like you couldn't-" the darker-haired brother began before Megan was forced to cut in.

"I'm sorry, but I'm supposed to be punching out right now or I'll be getting into trouble," Megan said, nodding past them to her boss – who watched from his office.

"Aye, aye, but I was wondering if after-" the same brother began again.

"I'm sorry," Megan repeated as she took off her apron. "I have another job to get to as soon as I'm able to leave this one," she told him pointedly.

The man looked slightly crestfallen, but not all that discouraged, nodded after a moment. "Of course," he said finally.

Megan fidgeted at the awkwardness of the encounter. "Have a nice day," she said again before walking off quickly towards the back to punch out and collect her things.

Behind her, the lighter-haired of the two let out a great guffaw. "Aye, Murphy, I think she's _real_ interested in you," he teased his brother.

"Why don't you shut it, Connor, it ain't like she were looking at you, either," Murphy muttered, swatting at him with a frown on his lips.

"Ah, don't you worry about it all, Murph, let's get these nice groceries home and then we'll hit McGinty's," Connor said as the two left.

The other cashier, Mary, let a big grin steal over her features. She fidgeted anxiously at her register until Megan came rushing out from the back. "Meg! Meg!" Mary hissed urgently, motioning the other young woman over.

"What, what?" Megan asked idly, trying to stuff her apron into her purse.

"Those two – ah, the painfully hot guys that were just here?" Mary referenced. Meg drew her eyebrows up, looking to her friend expectantly. "They might have mentioned they were heading to McGinty's," Mary informed her.

Megan let out a low groan, her shoulders falling slack. "This is _not_ what I need on my first day…" she said.

"Oh, like you should complain!" Mary interrupted – her violently pink hair whipping back and forth as she spoke. "You haven't had a boyfriend in _years_ ," she added lowly.

"And the only person who seems to have a problem with that is you, Mary." Megan hissed in response, stuffing her apron in her bag with one last good shove.

Mary sighed, tucking a pink strand behind her ear. "I didn't mean it _that_ way, Meg, and you know it," she said, her friend nodding reluctantly. "It's just – those two were freakin' _hot_ , Meg," she whined. "If I didn't have Jake…" Mary added, referencing her loveable loser boyfriend who couldn't hold onto a job for more than two weeks.

"Okay, okay, Mary…" Megan said, trying to edge off towards the exit.

"Well, just remember, Meg… if those two go to McGinty's often enough, they might know your Dad," Mary reminded her. The dark-haired girl turned back towards her friend with a look of dread.

"Keep bringing on that sunshine, won't you, Mary?" Megan said as she started towards the exit.

"Only if you call me after you get off tonight! I want to hear how this night goes!" Mary called after her.

Megan shook her head, squinting at the bright sunshine after having been shut inside all day. She started on the ten block walk towards McGinty's, surprised at how nervous she wasn't. It wasn't as if she'd never been to McGinty's before – but not more than a handful of times, anyway.

Her father had forced her there for her 21st birthday, though Meg had really never been interested in drinking anyway. She had had exactly three drinks before Quinn had been satisfied – and had had to take her home anyway, since the three drinks had gotten her quite tipsy and he didn't want to leave her in the hands of deviants – as he called the other bar patrons.

Which now included two young, gorgeous Irishmen; it seemed. The darker haired one, the one who had tried to flirt with her – he was filled with a sultry sort of beauty that Meg couldn't deny she was drawn to. But she also couldn't deny that getting involved with him, or anyone, really; was a daunting thought.

Megan was sure the brothers wouldn't really bother her, especially if her father happened to drop in tonight. Quinn had said he wouldn't, but Meg knew he would. When she had gotten her first job – at the same grocery store she still worked – her father had hung around the whole shift to keep an eye on her. He had almost gotten her fired, if it hadn't been for Amelia.

It had been Amelia who told Quinn that he could come in and keep an eye on Meg any time he liked, as long as he didn't disturb her from her work – as well as telling him that he had no reason to worry, that Amelia kept her girls safe. And so, Quinn's visits had trickled to almost nothing – only dropping in to walk Meg home if she worked late – or to walk her there if she worked early.

Meg glanced at her watch as she saw McGinty's bar come into sight and slowed her steps, she was twenty minutes early. Once she reached the steps in front, Meg turned around and basked in the sun for a few long moments, before she sighed and went inside.

There were only a few bar patrons for the moment, two sitting at a booth in the back, and one sitting at the bar. Her father wasn't there, yet. "Meg – lassie-" Doc called out, before breaking off into obscenities – gesturing her over with a wave of his arm.

Megan grinned, crossing the room towards the old man. She kissed him on the cheek the moment she reached him, "Good afternoon, Uncle Doc," she greeted.

Doc McGinty was a much-loved fixture in the Kavanaughs' lives. He had been the first to extend a hand of friendship to Quinn; right after they'd come to America and Quinn had still been grieving for his wife and Meg's mother. In fact, Meg was fairly certain that her father would never have gotten over her mother's death if it hadn't been for Doc. He spent all his holidays with them, and every holiday he'd end up in a drinking contest with Meg's grandmother. And more than half the time, Meg's Maimeó managed to drink Doc under the table.

"Where do you want me?" she asked.

"In the kitchen, for now. You can put your – ASS! FUCK! things back there. Make up some – SHIT! sandwiches fer later." Doc instructed, gesturing to the kitchen doors.

"You don't need me at all out here?" Meg asked in surprise.

"Not righ' now, lassie. SHIT! FUCK! Most of these assholes pretty much serve themselves." Doc answered.

Megan shrugged. "Alright. Let me know if you need me, Uncle Doc." she said, giving a little wave as she headed for the kitchens.

* * *

Murphy and Connor MacManus entered McGinty's just as it was starting to get busy. Half the bar shouted when the two entered – cueing the two to make some outrageous gestures. They took the last two seats at the bar, yelling to get Doc's attention. "Ah, ah, what do _you_ bastards want?!" Doc said teasingly, turning to two of his most loyal customers.

"What do you think we want, Doc!?" Murphy retorted – even as Doc was filling two glasses with cold Guinness.

"I thought you were hiring someone on to help you out, Doc!" Connor remarked, gesturing to the slowly filling up bar.

"Meg's in the back – SHIT! FUCK! – I haven't had a chance to ASS! her!" Doc responded.

"Well, I'll go 'ass' her," Murphy teased, sliding off his barstool and walking around the counter.

"You be nice to her, MacManus! SHIT!" Doc warned.

"When am I ever mean to a lady?" Murphy called back with a big grin, heading down the hallway that led towards the kitchen. He pushed open the kitchen door. The smile dropped from his lips. The pretty dark-haired girl he'd hit on just a few hours ago at the grocery store was the new waitress at his favorite bar. This had to be God's work. It was the only explanation.

He hovered in the doorway for a few moments, quietly observing her. She hadn't noticed him yet. A stray, dark curl hung in her face as she packaged up at least a dozen sandwiches, and she persistently blew her breath up in hopes of dislodging the curl. Then she moved to put the sandwiches in the fridge there. He knocked on the doorframe then, startling the girl as she closed the fridge door.

She looked up at him sharply, but she did not look surprised to see him. "You don't seem surprised to see me," Murphy remarked.

She shrugged lightly. "You and the other man said you were coming here as you were leaving the grocery store," she said. Her voice was soft and a little husky, with the faintest trace of an Irish accent that Murphy hadn't noticed before. He suddenly felt embarrassed, the thought of the girl being able to understand his and Connor's conversation about her. His surprise was obvious. "The cashiers hear everything," she added, alluding to the fact that one of her coworkers must have overheard him and his brother.

"You're Meg, right? Doc was calling for ya," Murphy remarked, gesturing back towards the rowdy bar as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink.

"Oh. Thank you," she said, turning back towards Murphy with intent to try and sidle by, but his figure filled the doorway.

"I'm Murphy MacManus," he said, holding out his hand to her.

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Megan Kavanaugh," she responded, hesitantly shaking his hand. "You come here often?" Meg asked, finally pushing the man back a little in order to sidle by.

"Yes, my brother Connor and I come in almost every night," Murphy answered, nearly on the young woman's heels with his eagerness to speak with her.

Meg turned her head back towards him, expression cool. "Then you must know my Da. Quinn Kavanaugh," she commented, a subtle warning in her tone.

"You're Quinn's girl? The way he talks about you, I thought you were a little girl," Murphy said, grinning over at her.

Megan shrugged. "I always will be, in his eyes," she responded, striding quickly through the hallway to re-enter the bar, not giving Murphy a chance to reply. She immediately gravitated to Doc's side once she re-entered the bar.

Murphy returned to his seat next to his twin brother reluctantly, watching casually as the old man spoke lowly to the new barmaid, clearly instructing her on what she was to done. Connor stuck an elbow in Murphy's ribs. "And isn't that the girl from the grocery store?" he said lowly, a shit-eating grin spreading over his lips.

Murphy grinned back at his brother. "God's lookin' out for me, Conn," he responded, glancing back over to the pretty waitress, who had started to flit around the bar, a large tray filled with drinks balanced on her arm.

"Ye find out her name?" Connor asked.

Murphy nodded. "Megan. Quinn Kavanaugh's girl," he answered, crooking a finger towards the man named seated at the opposite end of the bar. The older man's eyes followed his daughter's every movement protectively.

Connor let out a low whistle. "Of all the girls you take a fancy to, it's Ol' Kavanaugh's girl. You've got luck, brother," he teased.

Murphy shrugged, returning his brother's smirk. "I choose to look at it this way, Con. The girl works at our favorite bar and our _new_ favorite grocery. _And_ I know her da already," he responded, beginning to laugh at the very expression on his twin's face.

* * *

 **My first attempt at a Boondock Saints story! Please Review and tell me what you think!**

 _edited 2/20/17 to include a new character - Megan's brother Billy._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Meg's first shift at the bar passed in a hectic blur. The men there, while crude, hadn't crossed any lines as she served them drink after drink. Whether that had anything to do with her father camped out at the end of the bar all night, Meg didn't know.

At this point – well after 1 in the morning and last call – only a few people still hung around in the bar. Murphy MacManus and his brother, Doc, Meg's father, and Meg herself. Surprisingly, Meg still had some energy left in her. She was tearing her way through the dishes, scrubbing each glass with ferocity right behind the bar.

Doc was slowly circulating the bar, wiping down tables and lifting the chairs. Quinn and the MacManus brothers were engrossed in a debate on whether the Kavanaughs' hometown of Dublin was nicer than the MacManus' backwoods village.

The phone mounted to the wall at Meg's left rang suddenly, breaking her from her near daze. The others flashed her a strange look, wondering at the lateness of the call. Meg drew her hands from the hot water, hastily toweling off her digits before picking up the phone. "McGinty's." she greeted.

" _Is that anyway to greet your grandmother?_ " a low, peevish voice retorted.

Meg rolled her eyes, shifting the phone to cradle between her shoulder and ear. "Hello, Maimeó, how are you?" she said tiredly.

 _"I was wondering where you were at this hour. You didn't answer the phone at your apartment."_ Siobhan Kavanaugh said, tone accusing.

Meg sighed audibly. "Maimeó, don't pretend you didn't know exactly where I was. My first shift is just about over." she tried to reassure her grandmother. Suddenly all her energy had been zapped away.

 _"And I suppose your father is there, too?"_ Maimeó asked, Irish accent strong and displeased.

"Of course." Meg answered.

 _"I want to speak to him."_ Siobhan demanded.

Meg dropped the phone from her ear, looking towards her father. "Da," she called, as he bantered on with the twins. He didn't seem to have heard her. "Da!" Meg repeated louder, finally capturing his attention mid-sentence. "Maimeó," she said simply, holding out the phone to him.

Quinn rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed audibly, reaching over for the phone. _"I heard that!_ " Siobhan's voice could be heard shouting. For a few moments, Meg and the MacManuses looked on curiously as Quinn argued with his mother over the phone in hushed Gaelic. He abruptly ended the conversation by telling Siobhan to go to hell and hanging up the phone noisily.

The MacManuses looked alarmed by this. "Is this how he talks to his mother?" the blond brother asked, brows furrowed in both alarm and amusement. Murphy looked similarly befuddled.

Meg shrugged. "Yes. But you also don't know my Maimeó," she responded simply.

"She-demon," Quinn muttered, standing and jerking his coat on. "Meg, lassie, are you almost done? I need to get going," he asked, turning his attention to his daughter.

Meg gave a tentative shake of her head. "Not quite, Da. I'd like to finish up. You go on home, it's okay, I can walk home by myself," she responded, flapping her hand to gesture for him to go home.

"At this time of night?" Murphy interjected, faintly concerned. Meg returned his concern with a glare.

"He's right, Meg. You've been working since the crack of dawn, mo ghrá, you wouldn't be able to pay enough attention to your surroundings," Quinn pointed out.

Meg crossed her arms over her chest. "Da, Maimeó will keep calling if you don't go home. I'll be fine," she said stubbornly.

None of the men in the room looked convinced of this. "Quinn, we'd be happy to wait around and walk your girl home," Connor volunteered out of nowhere. Murphy looked surprised, but not displeased.

Meg immediately glared at the two young men and cut her eyes at her father pleadingly. Quinn didn't answer for a moment, apparently considering the idea. Meg was mortified. "That would be much appreciated, lads," he said to them, and Meg groaned audibly.

Quinn shook hands with the two men and walked around the bar to plant a kiss on Meg's forehead. "Connor and Murphy are good boys, Meg. I trust 'em to see you home safely," he told her, a subtle tone that reminded her to be gracious. "Call your Maimeó in the morning so she'll get off my back," Quinn told her, ruffling her hair quickly before striding out of the bar, calling out goodbyes to the others.

Meg turned her displeased gaze from the door to the MacManus brothers, who merely grinned at her, seeming pleased. "Take your time, lassie," Murphy said, winking flirtatiously at her.

"You may have my Da fooled, but don't think you've fooled me," Meg retorted, pointing at the both of them with narrowed eyes, hand dripping with dishwater.

"Why, Miss Kavanaugh, whatever do you mean?" Connor asked in faux outrage.

"We're just good Irish lads doing right by a pretty lass," Murphy supplemented with a wink.

Meg shook her head, focusing her attention back to the task at hand. She plunged her hands back into the sink's lukewarm, soapy water and plowed through the last twenty or so dirty glasses.

The MacManus brothers continually tried to draw her into conversation, but Meg only responded with one word answers or grunts. At this point in the night, Meg had been working about fifteen hours, give or take a half hour for her transition from one job to the other. She was exhausted, and the only thing she could think of right now was crawling into bed for the foreseeable future.

Doc emerged from the back as Meg stacked the last few clean glasses on the shelf. "Meg, my darling lassie, it's time for you – shit! - to take off. Where's your Da?" he asked, patting the young woman on the shoulder.

"Gone home," Meg answered, drying her hands with the towel thrown over her shoulder. "The lads here have volunteered to walk me home," she continued, gesturing to Connor and Murphy. Her tone left no doubt she found the arrangement displeasing.

"Good lads, they are," Doc grumbled. "Fuck! Get out, will ya? Let me lock up and – shit! - rest these tired bones," he requested.

Meg nodded sharply, bending down and collecting her purse from below the bar. She pressed a kiss to the old man's cheek, and strode around the bar. She gestured for the MacManus brothers to follow her with not a word and a crude gesture.

Connor and Murphy traded grins and took off after her. "Good night, Doc!" Connor called behind them as the old man followed slowly to lock the bar up.

Meg waited for the twins at the bottom of the steps outside the bar. They could tell that she was running on fumes by the bags under her eyes and the way she rocked back and forth on her heels - as if standing still pained her.

"Come on, lassie, let's get you home. Where do you live?" Murphy asked, tentatively putting an arm around her shoulders. Meg eyed him with a scrunched expression before exhaling and rattling off her address.

Connor and Murphy shared a look of surprise and then a grin. "What good fortune, lass, that we live in the same building," Connor remarked.

Meg whirled to face Connor, eyes narrowed. "Are you serious?" she questioned incredulously.

"'Fraid so, lass. We're your next door neighbors," Connor said.

Meg buried her face in her hands. "I'm too tired for this," she moaned, making the brothers laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Meg. We'll get ya home," Murphy chuckled, guiding her in the direction of their shared apartment building.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"No, they _live_ in my building," Megan said lowly into her telephone. She sat at her kitchen counter, legs tucked against her chest as she picked idly on her breakfast.

" _You're kidding!_ " Mary exclaimed from the other side of the line.

Megan scoffed. "I couldn't make this up if I tried – you know that," she responded. "Anyway, I had to tell you since I'm off at the store today – but I have to call my Maimeó before she gets too grumpy,"

"I think you're a few decades late on that boat. See you tomorrow," Mary said.

"You might be right. See you tomorrow," Meg laughed before pressing the dial tone, and dialing in her father's phone number.

The phone rang exactly three times before it was picked up. " _Hello._ " A flat voice crackled across the line.

"Good morning, Maimeó," Meg greeted, grabbing a bite of her eggs, growing cold on the counter in front of her.

"Mo stór," the older woman purred, her tone abruptly changing when she realized it was her granddaughter on the line. "Did you sleep well, in that infernal new flat?" Siobhan inquired.

"Yes, Maimeó, I slept fine. I got in around two-thirty, and I only woke up about an hour or two ago," Megan explained. Her grandmother made the appropriate sympathetic noises before promptly launching into another rant on why Megan should never have moved out. For a few moments, she tried to listen attentively. Then she tried to cough, to get a word in edge-wise.

"Listen, Maimeó," Meg interrupted. Siobhan was immediately silenced, most likely because she was shocked her granddaughter would interrupt her. "I was thinking I could come over and have lunch with you in about an hour. You could finish your rant then," she suggested.

Siobhan chuckled. " _Mo stór, you're sassing me. Who are you and what have you done with my granddaughter?_ " Meg blushed. " _And yes, Meg, I would like you to come for lunch. I will be waiting for you._ " Siobhan continued.

Meg grinned. "I just need to get dressed and then I'll be on my way. See you soon. Love you!"

" _And I you, mo stór_ ," Siobhan purred before she hung up. Meg placed the phone back on the receiver and all but skipped towards her shower.

Half an hour later, Meg was locking her door just as Murphy opened his. There was a moment of instant panic that welled up in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the admittedly attractive man. "Mornin', lassie," Murphy greeted, lips curling up into a grin around a lit cigarette. Meg grimaced, more at the cigarette than Murphy himself. "What? Still mad we're neighbors?" Murphy asked, closing the door behind him and taking a few steps towards Meg.

She shook her head hurriedly. "No," she said, waving her hand near her face to disperse the smoke. "It's the smoke," Meg continued, shuffling a step back.

A look of understanding dawned on Murphy's face, and he immediately took his cigarette from between his lips and put it out with the sole of his shoe. He took a step towards Meg again, and seemed pleased that she didn't shuffle back again. "Where you off to on this fine mornin'?" Murphy asked.

"To see my grandmother," Megan answered, starting towards the rickety elevator. Murphy fell into step with her.

"The she-demon your Da mentioned?" he suggested, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"The one and only," Meg replied, grinning.

Murphy smiled back, and shuffled his fingers through his hair. He seemed sheepish, almost embarrassed "I'll walk ye, if ye like?" he offered, the invitation hanging in the air between them.

Meg hesitated, shaking her head. "No thank you. I'm sure you've got other things to do than walk me everywhere I go," she politely refused.

"I don' mind," Murphy said right away, a little pink in the cheeks. "I like talking to ye," he continued, taking her by surprise.

Meg flushed a little red, avoiding his gaze. "If you like..." she began, and he eagerly looked up. "You can walk me home from McGinty's tonight. That is, if you're not busy..." her hesitance was obvious.

"I'd like that very much," Murphy said quickly, smiling brightly. "What time does your shift end?" he asked.

"11," Meg answered. "I work at the grocery early tomorrow morning so I can't stay too late," she explained.

"And do ye usually walk to work alone at an early hour?" Murphy questioned, clearly testing the waters.

Meg shook her head. "No, my Da walks me. This one, Murph, you'll just have to sit out," she responded, and finally hit the call button on the elevator. She couldn't believe her cheekiness, even though Murphy seemed amused.

"I knew ye were starting to like me," he said in a silly voice, making Meg blush.

"Shut up!" Meg immediately fired back, her cheeks growing even hotter.

"Ah, so there's my sharp-tongued vixen... I'll see ye later tonight..." Murphy teased, waving as he walked back to his apartment.

Meg took a deep breath and stepped into the elevator. She hit the button for the first floor, and closed her eyes the doors shut. She took several deep breaths in hopes of calming the raging blush on her cheeks. As she stepped out of the elevator, Meg checked her face in her compact - she still glowed pink.

Megan walked the sixteen blocks from her apartment to the townhouse her father and grandmother shared. Where Meg had lived from the moment they'd come to America ten years ago up until two days ago. She mounted six steps to get to the door and then fished a key out of her bag to unlock the door and step inside. "Maimeó!" Meg called out as she shut the door.

"I'm in the kitchen!" came Siobhan's reply. Meg made her way through the spartan living room into the kitchen.

For the Kavanaughs', the kitchen has always been the room they gathered in and loved best. So it was the most decorated and well-used room in the house. The walls were painted Kelly-green, an eleven-year-old Megan's tribute to their home when they'd first moved in, and the cabinets were a dark cherry wood that made the green walls pop.

Meg's grandmother sat at the kitchen table with a mug in front of her as well as a prepared plate of sandwiches. As Meg entered, Siobhan stood, welcoming her granddaughter with a hug and kiss. The eighty-year-old was only a few inches shorter than Meg's 5'2" frame, and thin as a reed. Her silver hair was fine and soft like silk, always loose in waves. Once, Siobhan had the famous Irish red hair, but Quinn had inherited his father's black and so had Megan. Faintly, Megan remembered running her fingers through Siobhan's hair when it was still shot with red instead of just silver.

"Come, come, sit down, mo stór," Siobhan urged, taking Meg's hand in her frailer one and walking her to a seat. "What would you like to drink?" she asked, walking to the sink to grab a clean glass.

"I'll have whatever you're having," Megan said accommodatingly. Her grandmother flashed her a look. "Hold the whiskey, of course," she added.

"Such _sass_ ," Meg's grandmother acknowledged, turning a critical eye back towards her. Meg flushed a little red. "Who are you and what have you done with my Meg?" she asked, turning and shuffling back to the table with a cup of tea in hand. Siobhan raised a cool hand and pressed the back of it to Meg's forehead.

"Maimeó!" Meg protested, brushing her grandmother's hand away. "I'm _fine_ ," she said firmly. Siobhan gave her another disbelieving glance as she settled in her seat opposite Meg. "It's all just a matter of getting used to the new situation." Meg added, hoping to distract Siobhan.

"So it's nothing to do with the handsome men who walked you home last night?" Siobhan remarked, stirring her tea innocently. She lifted her eyes to Meg, who had turned tomato-red and was now spluttering incoherently. "So it was," she concluded, not really needing any more information on the matter.

"How do you _even_ know about that?!" Meg demanded. She could feel heat crawling up the back of her neck, and knew she had no hope of hiding a thing from her grandmother.

Siobhan raised an eyebrow, helping herself to a sandwich. "As if your father can enter this house without telling me _any_ secret he might have, mo stór," she remarked, taking a hearty bite before pushing the plate towards Meg.

The brunette narrowed her eyes at her grandmother, carefully taking a sandwich and then began to scarf it down. She was startled by how hungry she was. With the few moments of silence, Meg thought Siobhan might just let it be. As if.

"So have they taken your fancy? Those boys your father spoke of?" Siobhan asked suddenly.

Meg forced herself not to react, and just to be honest with her grandmother. She knew if she sputtered and refused, that would only give Siobhan more reason to needle her. "I'll admit Connor and Murphy are attractive," Meg said slowly. Siobhan raised an eyebrow, and the mischief behind her eyes seemed to dim. "But I don't know if I fancy them," she concluded.

"So that's not a no," Siobhan said in a questioning tone.

"No," Meg confirmed with a nod.

Siobhan took a few more bites of her sandwich, clearly thinking carefully about the situation. "And have they expressed an interest in you?" she asked.

Meg hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Murphy has. Connor's a little harder to read. I first met them in the grocery, Maimeó," she began, stifling a laugh. "They came to my line and started talking about me in Gaelic, assuming I didn't understand. They said that I was cute, and such," she flushed a little pink at the memory. "Then Murphy tried to ask me out,"

Siobhan let out a girlish noise that was quite unlike her. "You haven't expressed this much interest in a boy since that mess with that Robert fellow a few years ago," she exclaimed in excitement. "I need to meet that Murphy boy right away," she began, not seeming to notice Meg's downtrodden expression.

The moment Siobhan had mentioned that name, Meg could feel that little ball of warmth at the pit of her stomach shrivel up and die. When she had been seventeen and madly in love, he had taken her to prom. Rented a motel room and hadn't given Meg much of a choice. She had locked herself in the bathroom and called her father from there. She didn't emerge until Quinn had forced his way into the room and socked Robert in the jaw. The following Monday, Meg had returned to school to find out that Robert had spread vicious rumors about her as revenge for ruining his night – consequently making those last months in high school hell for Meg.

"Oh, oh," Siobhan said, her excited words coming full-stop when she saw her granddaughter's expression. "I'm sorry, mo stór, for bringing him up. Don't let that scum spoil your future," she said, standing with a little difficulty to walk around the table and wrap her arms around Meg.

Meg sucked in a deep breath, burrowing into her grandmother's embrace. "I'm trying," she said lowly. "I try to keep the things he said about me, the things he made me believe, out of my mind, but it's hard, Maimeó," she acknowledged.

Siobhan pulled away, and used a finger to raise Meg's gaze to hers. "If I'd known you still felt that way, I would have sent your father to pummel him again a long time ago," she remarked. Even though the words were somewhat appropriate, Meg found them calming. It wasn't Maimeó if she didn't offer to send Quinn out to pummel someone to make Meg feel better.

"Thank you, Maimeó, but I think Da can keep his fists to himself this time," Meg said with a wry chuckle.

Siobhan grinned. "Just this once!" she warned, waving a finger in the air.

!

The hallway was empty that night as Murphy walked Megan to her door. "You've been real quiet this evenin', lass," he remarked, brows furrowed in concern.

Meg flashed him a half-hearted smile. "I've been told I need to work on being…" she trailed off, clearly trying to find the right word. "Upfront," she finally added.

"Abou' what?" Murphy asked curiously.

"What I want." Meg answered. They were standing in front of her door and her keys dangled in her hands. She shifted the metal from hand to hand, clearly nervous.

Murphy shocked her by covering her hands with his. "What is it you want?" he asked, the warmth of his limbs quickly seeping into Meg's cold hands.

It took Meg a few moments to formulate an answer. When she had, she looked up at Murphy. "Would you…" she began a little hesitantly. He stood up straighter, to show she had his attention. "Would you take me on a date?" Meg asked abruptly. Murphy's eyes went wide and she looked just as surprised as he.

"I'd love to," Murphy said quickly, taking a half-step to stand closer to her.

Megan's face had flushed completely red in embarrassment. "I know," she replied, a smirk playing at her lips.

"Cocky, are we?" Murphy flirted, raising a hand to brush it along Meg's fore-arm.

"Well, I did understand what you were saying about me in the grocery store yesterday… it was a safe bet," Meg confirmed, trying to play along. Murphy's grin split his whole face, making him look much younger than she knew he was. She knew he was at least three or four years older than her.

But that grin… it made Meg's insides feel all warm and squiggly, and she couldn't help what she did next. She shifted onto her toes to lean up and press her lips to Murphy's. He stiffened for but a second in surprise before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.

The kiss was nothing Meg had ever felt before. It was like eating warm cookies and milk, Maimeó's hug, and her Da's laugh all wrapped into one warm feeling. She was so engrossed she barely noticed Murphy pull her closer and deepen the kiss. And for a second, Meg was ready to give in. Give him everything.

Reluctantly, Meg pulled away, turning her head to the side. She was blushing even more furiously now, and the look on Murphy's face was awestruck. It took him a moment to recover his words. "Well then, when can I take you out?" he asked, not bothering to take his arms from around her waist. Surprisingly, Meg didn't mind.

"Two nights from now," she suggested. Murphy gave a resolute nod. "Seven o'clock?" she added and he nodded again. "And no McGinty's," Meg warned and he nodded again, a little less eagerly this time.

"As you wish, milady," he said teasingly before leaning down to capture her lips once more before gesturing for her to go inside her apartment.

"What a gentleman," Meg responded, only half-joking as she fit her key into the lock.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **2 Nights Later**

"How'd you get Quinn's girl to go out with ye?" Connor asked incredulously, watching as Murphy dressed for his first date with Meg.

Murphy flashed a grin towards his twin. " _She_ asked _me_." He replied, only for Connor to immediately call out in disbelief. "You're just jealous, Murphy countered.

"What d'ye mean? Who says she didn't ask me _first_ ," Connor teased. Murphy rolled his eyes. "What! It could happen!"

"In yer dreams. Girl's mine," Murphy retorted.

Connor spread out on his mattress, arms crossed behind his head. "It won't be long before she's looking for a real man. For the _older_ brother,"

" _I'm_ the older brother," Murphy retorted, giving himself one last once-over before heading for the door.

Within ten steps, he was at Megan's door. He knocked on the door and after a few moments, it opened. And Murphy's breath rushed from his lungs. What a vision she was – Megan had donned a white t-shirt, knee-length floral skirt and cream-colored kitten heels. Her short, dark hair was loose and wavy, just brushing past her jawline. Her normal minimal eyeliner was accentuated with a little blush and eyeshadow that made her hazel eyes pop. "Ye look lovely," Murphy breathed out, holding his hand out to her.

Meg blushed, taking his hand and stepping closer to press a kiss to Murphy's cheek. He swiftly turned his head so the kiss would land on his lips instead. She pulled back, flashing him a reproachful look, but Murphy only grinned cheekily.

"Shall we go? I have quite the evenin' planned for us," Murphy remarked.

Meg frowned. "I hope you didn't go to much trouble, Murphy, I wouldn't want-"

"But you're the type of lass that warrants trouble," Murphy interrupted, eying her seriously. Meg opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off again. "Don't worry, Meg, the evenin' I've planned is cheap and cheerful," he reassured her. "But, anyway, are ye hungry? Do we wanna eat first?" Murphy asked.

Megan nodded. "I could eat," she acknowledged and Murphy gave a resolute nod.

"A'right, I have _just_ the place in mind. It's right off the park, where I thought we might take a walk after we eat. I checked, there seems to be some sort of special event going on at the park. I saw lots of stands being set up when I walked past this morning," Murphy explained.

The shy smile on Meg's lips burgeoned into a wider grin. "That sounds like a lot of fun,"

"Well, I hoped you'd think so," He retorted sarcastically, offering his arm. Meg rolled her eyes, sighing as she took his arm. "Let's go – I'm starvin'!"

!

Meg leaned back against the back of the leather booth's seat with a grimace. "I don't think I've ever eaten so much in my _life_ ," she groaned to Murphy's obvious amusement.

He sat beside her, one arm snaked around her shoulders. "Well, I don't think I've ever seen a lass eat so much if you don't include me Ma," he replied with a grin as Meg flushed red with embarrassment. "It's impressive," he added quickly, to make sure Meg knew he didn't think badly of her.

She flashed him a weak smile to show she understood, and let Murphy draw her closer for a kiss. As the young pair quietly expressed their affection, the waitress slid the check onto the table and left without disturbing them. After a few moments, Murphy and Meg broke apart to catch their breath. Meg rested her head on his shoulder as Murphy's arm tugged her a little closer so that the lengths of their legs pressed together. "Perhaps a little walk will do us some good. Some fresh air and exercise will do wonders," Murphy remarked, reaching for the check.

"And make room for dessert," Meg suggested suddenly. Murphy's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I may have whipped something up for when we get back," she explained.

"Oh, so I'll be receivin' an invitation to enter your apartment tonight?" Murphy asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Meg rolled her eyes for what must've been the 20th time that night. "If you behave," she chided gently.

Murphy grinned, pecking her on the forehead. "I thought I had been!" he protested playfully as he counted out money for the check.

"I suppose you have," Meg replied, lifting her head as he tucked his wallet away. "But the date's not over yet,"

"Yer right," Murphy agreed. "So let's get out to the park and see what's out there," he prompted, sliding out of the booth. Meg slid out after him, took his proffered hand, and allowed him to lead her out of the little diner.

The pair wandered through the park for over an hour until they stumbled onto a pet adoption fair. Meg immediately gravitated towards the pen of dogs. She reached out to a particularly friendly looking dog, who instantly leapt to lick her palm.

"Ya like dogs then, I take it?" Murphy asked, leaning onto the pen's post beside her.

Meg nodded vigorously. "Before we came to America, we had this old prissy little dog named Sugar. Not unlike that one," she began, pointing to the tri-colored Sheltie sitting at the back of the pen. The dog observed everything with disinterest.

"She was my mum's, from before she'd even married my Dad. And then after my mum died… it was like Sugar had just given up. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't play – she died just a few days after my mum did," she explained, walking around the pen to get closer to the Sheltie. Meg held out her hand to the Sheltie, the back of her hand pointed towards the dog.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Murphy said in response, forehead wrinkling in concern. The dog sniffed Meg's fingers for a moment, gave an obliging lick or two before glancing away.

Meg nodded and caught the gaze of one of the ladies working the event. "Excuse me," Meg called, and the older woman made her way over.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Meg gestured to the sheltie. "What can you tell me about the Sheltie?" she asked.

"Ah, that's Dollie. She's been in the shelter about a year," the woman began. Meg and Murphy traded sad glances. "She's about three years old, from one of those puppy mills. She was rescued just before she had a litter last year. Her pups went, but no one seems to want Dollie," she went on.

"Is she healthy?" Meg asked, moving a little closer to tentatively pet the Sheltie's head. Dollie allowed the contact, but she showed no appreciation or eagerness for it. Like she was reluctant to hope for a better home.

"She's had a clean bill of health the whole time we've had her. We've even had her spayed," the woman answered immediately. "Dollie's very well-behaved and is completely house-broken. She just can be...reserved," she continued.

"How much to adopt her?" Meg questioned.

Murphy looked at her in surprise. "Meg, are ye sure about this?" he asked. The look Meg flashed him left little doubt.

The woman was quick to interject. "It's only twenty dollars to adopt. We also provide a collar, leash, and some food to get you started," she said.

Meg's gaze shifted back to her in surprise. "That seems surprisingly cheap," she remarked.

"Well, we're all about getting these animals into a loving home," the woman began. "Dollie's got a lot to offer. But it's going to take someone patient to bring it out of her," she continued, giving Meg a knowing look. "Shall we fill out the paperwork?"

Meg sucked in a deep breath. "Yes," she said firmly, reaching for her purse. Murphy watched in bewilderment as his date handed the woman a twenty dollar bill, and was led over to table a few feet away.

Murphy held out a hand to Dollie, who continued to watch the events unfolding around her with a practiced disinterest. "Looks like yer getting a new home, Dollie. Couldn't be with a better lass," he murmured, scratching the dog behind her ears.

After only a few minutes, Meg and the woman returned, with a grocery bag in one hand that she immediately handed to Murphy. The woman from the shelter reached into the pen and clipped the leash to Dollie's collar, and carefully lifted her out and set her down on the ground outside the pen. She handed the leash to Meg.

Meg took it and crouched down in front of Dollie. She scratched the dog behind her ears, and Dollie leaned into her hand - making a smile spread over Meg's features. "Come on, girl. Let's get you to your new home," Meg remarked, standing up. She quickly shook the woman's hand and gave her thanks before turning to Murphy, looking a little sheepish. "I know the date's sort of taken a weird turn..." she began, looking down to the dog at her side. "But she just reminds me so much of Sugar,"

Murphy took her free hand, drawing her close to press a kiss to her lips. "Honestly, lass, this just showed me how kind yer heart is," he reassured her. "I'd be happy to walk her if yer ever caught up,"

"Thank you," Meg said softly, blushing as she leaned in for another kiss.

Murphy happily obliged her. "So, shall we head back to yers? Get this little Dollie all settled in... and I recall ye promising me something sweet," he remarked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Meg laughed even as she rolled her eyes. "Is it your goal to always be this ridiculous?" She asked as they began to stroll towards home.

"Does it work for ye?" Murphy countered, making her muffle an amused giggle. "Then yes, I make a point of it," he said once he saw Meg's expression - which wasn't half as disproving as her words.

The couple walked leisurely home, with Dollie trotting at Meg's side.

!

Roughly half an hour later, Meg and Murphy had settled Dollie into the apartment. The Sheltie had explored her surroundings thoroughly, sniffing through each nook and cranny, seeming neither pleased or displeased at the turn of events.

"I'll take her to the pet store tomorrow and pick up some things for her," Meg remarked as she moved towards the kitchen area.

"Sounds like a good plan," Murphy said, taking a seat at the counter. Meg smiled and picked up the opaque glass cover from the raised cake plate, revealing a chocolate frosted cake. "Oh, Meg... tha' looks sinfully delicious,"

Meg's grin turned more mischievous as she cut two generous slices and placed them on plates. In a moment, she settled on the stool beside Murphy. "So… it's been a pretty good first date so far, yeah?" Murphy asked, picking up a fork.

Meg smiled and laughed lightly. "Yes, Murphy, it really has. I haven't had such a fun time on a date in a really long time," she answered, laying a hand on Murphy's arm. He grinned in response and leaned over to steal a kiss. After a few kisses, Murphy took his first bite of the chocolate cake. He groaned in satisfaction while Meg giggled. "This is the _best_ cake I've ever had," he remarked vehemently.

"Thanks," Meg managed to get out between giggles. She began to pick at her own slice, curious as to how their date would end this night.

"When's the last time ye've had a serious boyfriend?" Murphy asked out of nowhere. Meg immediately started choking on the bite of cake she'd just taken, the feeling only quelled when she took a long sip of water. "Are ye alright?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes," Meg said after a moment. "Why would you ask that?" she questioned, holding a hand over her heart.

Murphy turned to fully face her, the tips of their knees brushing together. "It just seems like it's been a while for ye. Like there's some issues there," he began, seriously. Meg's cheeks flushed red. "It's not that I want to push ye to tell me, Meg. It's that I really like ye, and I don't want to push ye the wrong way, if ye get my meaning," Murphy explained.

Meg took a deep breath. "I understand. And I really like you too, Murphy. It's just not a story I thought I'd be telling on our first date," she said. Murphy rested a hand on her bare knee, brushing his thumb over her skin in comforting circles. Normally, that contact would have been utterly unwelcome, but with Murphy she knew she could take him at face value. "I haven't had a boyfriend since senior year of high school," she began, taking another deep breath.

"I'm listenin'," Murphy said quietly.

Meg nodded. "He was a real nice guy – Patrick was his name. But I was going through a rebellious period then, so the moment this boy, Robbie, showed any interest in me, I dumped Patrick, broke his heart, and started going with Robbie." she began, obviously reluctant.

"Rebellious, huh? Can't quite picture it," Murphy commented, giving her a little break from having to speak.

Meg squared her shoulders and her gaze hardened. "That's because I learned my lesson," she replied firmly. Murphy's brows furrowed and he looked at her in confusion. "I went to Prom with Robbie. Afterwards, he brought me to a motel room. And.… things got out of hand. I'm sure you know what he wanted,"

Murphy nodded, expression going from confused to concerned. "I didn't think I had a choice," Meg said, and he began to feel a little sick. "So I let him. It wasn't until after it was over that I realized what had happened… that he'd… raped me." At this point, tears began to leak from Meg's eyes.

Murphy took Meg's hands in his. "What happened afterwards, Meg?" he asked urgently.

Meg's eyes lifted to meet his. "I locked myself in the bathroom and called my da. I didn't come out until he forced his way into the room." she answered.

"But what happened to tha' bastard?" Murphy questioned.

Meg shook her head. "We called the police and told them what happened. But Robbie denied everything. And his family was wealthy, and they had connections. The charges were dropped and Robbie walked free," she answered, voice dropping to a whisper.

It was clear to Murphy that this still haunted her. "If I saw that man on the street, I'd kill 'em," he said darkly.

Meg shook her head, as if that was the last thing she wanted to hear. "He spread rumors about me, everyone _hated_ me. I tried to go back to Patrick, but he'd already been poisoned by Robbie's lies. He told me that I was a _slut,_ " she hissed the word with the utmost vehemence. "He told me I deserved what happened to me. After that, I couldn't stay at that school. My da pulled me out and let me finish off at home before college. And _that_ is why I haven't dated since high school," Meg explained.

Murphy tentatively put a hand on Meg's shoulder and slowly pulled her into his arms. She didn't resist, instead pressing closer. "I'm sorry that happened to ye," he said quietly. His expression was calm, but on the inside – he _raged_. Meg could never have deserved such horrors – and then for this Robbie to walk free? Where was the justice in America? It wasn't the first time he'd heard such a tale – but it was the first time it'd been someone Murphy knew.

To his surprise, Meg sought his lips with her own, initiating a soul-searing kiss that made Murphy's knees weak. His arms tightened around her, pressing Meg closer still. She drew back after a moment. "I'm okay _now_ , Murphy. I'm not a wounded little baby bird. I'm ready to date again. Ready to date _you_. But that was something you needed to know," she informed him.

Murphy nodded. "I'm glad you told me," he said, stealing another quick peck.

Meg smiled indulgently. "Let's get back to dessert," she suggested, gesturing to the chocolate cake on the counter. The couple had only taken a bite or two before their serious conversation had started. And well, they shouldn't waste it, should they?

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews please?**

 **Some necessary backstory uncovered. Also anyone see how this might contribute to the twins' vigilantism?**


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